The Jewel Thief and the Con Artist
Part One // Part Two
Tagging @painful-pooch @winedark-whump @justplainwhump @diyalogues @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight - let me know if you want be added/removed!
CW: stealing things, referenced past trauma (vague)
***
Markham keeps his phone pressed to his ear, walking briskly down the street. “Ace? Update?”
“You know it’s really damn hard to focus when you’re constantly talking, right?” she responds, her voice crackling through the speaker.
“I worry, kid.” He looks both ways before crossing the street and slipping into an alleyway for a shortcut, keeping his head low. “You know I worry.”
“It’s a waste of your time. You don’t need to worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“Yeah.” He runs his hand through his spiked blond hair. “You still owe me that update.”
“God, you’re annoying,” she mutters, and Markham hears the slight hiss of a case opening alongside it. “I’ve got it. Making the exchange.”
Markham looks up at the moon before crossing an intersection. “I’ll be there by the time you’re done. Hopefully.”
“You should have already been there,” she hisses. “If you fuck this up, I swear, Markham…”
“I got a little sidetracked, alright? Take it easy, kiddo. I had to get our celebratory booze.” The bottle clinks in his backpack, alongside the black tube they’ll deposit tonight’s score in.
“There’s nothing to celebrate until the job is done.” She sighs so loudly Markham has to pull the phone away from his ear. “I’m going radio silent. You better be there when I’m done.”
“I will be, kid. Don’t worry.”
“I’m worried.”
The line goes dead, and Markham puts his phone away, continuing his path towards the small, private museum Ace is at. Even late at night, there are plenty of cars and people on the street, and for the most part, he blends in.
For the most part. Ace is going to rip him a new one for wearing a red leather jacket to the scene of a burglary, but he doesn’t go anywhere without it, and it’s cold in Boston this time of year, cold enough he can see his breath in front of him as he makes his way towards Ace.
Besides, they’ve done this dozens of times and he’s always worn the jacket when the job went well. When he doesn’t…
Markham’s stared down the barrel of a gun a few times, but Ace always has a few tricks up her sleeve to get them out.
Tonight’s just for fun, anyways. One drunken round of blackjack and Markham found himself daring Ace to steal a single ruby from a ring.
Of course, she didn’t say no. She was mostly sober.
Markham arrives at the museum, tucking himself into the blindspot of the traffic cameras before hoisting himself over the fence, narrowly avoiding a strange looking vine. He lands hard, the worn soles of his shoes doing nothing to absorb the weight of impact.
By the time he makes his way to the service entrance, Ace is already there, leaning against the wall in a janitor’s outfit underneath a camera that’s been beaten to a pulp. “You’re late.”
“Yeah, by like, two seconds.” Markham scoffs.
“A minute and a half, actually.”
He points up at the camera. “Well, at least you found a way to occupy yourself for that horribly long amount of time, Bart.” He smirks and gestures to the name sewn into her uniform.
She shrugs and steps forward, taking off her hat and letting her long black hair fall around her shoulders. “It’s not fun unless something gets destroyed.”
“Yeah, you’re telling me.” Markham gives her a lazy grin. “Well, kid?”
Ace smirks, and from her pocket, produces a small ruby, holding it between her gloved fingers. “And how long did that take me?”
“Oh shit, forgot to stop the timer.” Markham pulls out his phone, checking it quickly. “Subtracting a bit…two minutes, thirty seconds since you stepped foot in the building.” He pulls the tube out of his backpack, and Ace drops the gem into it. “How much do you think that’ll get us?”
“My guess? About seven thousand. Not bad for two minutes and thirty seconds worth of work. But having to sell it under the table without a certificate of authenticity will decrease the value…we’ll probably get five thousand.”
“Still, not bad for two minutes and thirty seconds worth of work, kiddo.” He reaches out, ruffling her hair.
She gives him a tiny smile. “Yeah. Hope you bought something good to drink. Something worth you being late.”
“I wasn’t that late! Also come on, you’re not old enough to drink.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’ve been making that joke since we met. I’m not nineteen anymore. I can drink. Legally.”
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself there, kid.” He chuckles and takes his backpack off. “Alright. Where do you want me?”
Ace points to a trashcan. “Climb in. I’ll take us out to the dumpsters.”
“Wow, you make it sound so appealing,” Markham grumbles, pulling off the lid and looking down into the—thankfully empty—trashcan.
“Hey, you didn’t want to take a ride in the garbage, you shouldn’t have dared me to this.” She smiles again, the widest she has all night, and gestures to the trashcan. “In you go. Don’t keep me waiting. I stole a ruby out of a ring faster than you can get in a trashcan.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you, kid.” Markham grabs onto the sides of the trashcan to jump up, landing his feet solidly inside and looking at her, staying standing. “There. Happy?”
She flicks the lid, making it hit Markham in the back. “Get down.”
He scowls at her. “Fine, fine. Going.” The last thing he sees before the lid slams shut is Ace pulling her hat back on, brown eyes full of determination. That kid scares the shit out of him sometimes. He just tells himself it’s good scary.
The entire trashcan vibrates and shakes as Ace drags it across the pavement, and it goes right to Markham’s head. He’s been getting these horrible migraines lately, triggered by…pretty much anything he does, but being stuck in a trashcan isn’t helping. He bangs on the side, trying to get Ace to be more careful, but she just kicks the plastic hard, making him jolt.
“Fucking hell, kid,” he mutters.
“Heard that,” she says back, her voice echoing. “Trashcans don’t talk.”
Markham bites back his laugh. This fucking kid. At least she makes his job more interesting. He doesn’t know what he’d do without her.
Well, he was of hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt before…
Now he’s in the tens of thousands.
The trashcan comes to an abrupt halt, and Ace opens the lid, peering down at him and offering her gloved hand. Markham takes it and hops out, dusting himself off. “You’re an awful driver, kid. Where’d you get your license?”
She gives him a smug smirk. “I don’t have one.”
“Yeah, I can tell.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder. “You ready?”
Ace quickly removes the janitor’s uniform and cap, throwing it in the trashcan. She’s wearing leggings and a tank top underneath, all in black and form fitting, tiny scars marking up her exposed arms. He remembers her telling him she doesn’t like to run the risk of her clothing snagging on anything when she’s in the middle of her work. Her gloves are the last thing off, folded in half and tucked into the waistband of her leggings. “Alright, now I’m ready.” She flexes her slender fingers and rolls her neck. “Fuck, I need to stretch.”
“Yeah, you look tense,” Markham jokes, gently bumping her shoulder.
She glares at him. “You try stealing a ruby in two minutes and thirty seconds and see if that makes your muscles sore.”
“Yeah, I know, kid. Proud of you.” He cracks a smirk, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I should give you challenges more often.”
She rolls her eyes, walking down the street with Markham at her side. “Or we take actual job and make you do some work paying off your fucking gambling debt.” Her phone buzzes, and she keeps walking, pulling it out of her leggings pocket. “Hold that thought.” She slips away from Markham and holds the phone up to her ear. “Ace. Who’s talking and what do you want?”
Markham watches as her face shifts, and she stops in the middle of the sidewalk. “Shit. Been a while.”
Who are you talking to? Markham mouths.��
Ace waves her hand at him and resumes walking, occasionally looking over her shoulder. “Yeah. Alright. We can meet. Guess I owe you that much.” Another pause, and Ace nods her head, looking over at Markham. “Yeah. Yeah, I can bring him. Where am I meeting you? Down by the docks? Next to Long Wharf. Okay. We’ll be there.” She turns her phone off. “Change of plans. We’re going to have to wait on that drink.”
“What’s going on?” Markham asks.
Ace runs her hand through her hair, eyes full of…it’s a mix of emotions, ones Markham rarely sees Ace show. Pain. Loss. “An old…friend is in town.” She fixes Markham with a stern look. “And you’re going to be on your best behavior. Right?”
“What do they want with me?” Markham has to jog a little to catch up to Ace’s brisk pace.
“I don’t know.” Ace sighs. “A job, most likely. She knows about your skill set through me.”
“Oh, so you’re admitting I have skills.” Markham turns his head to smile at her, but her jaw is set and she’s got the same look in her eyes, a tenseness to her shoulders that sets him on edge. “Kid? You alright?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” She rolls her shoulders, and everything about the smile she gives him seems forced. “I just…her name is Jude, okay? And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her. A really, really long time, at least to me. I thought I left all that behind.”
Markham frowns, racking his brain. He met her when she was nineteen. That was two years ago... “You two met before we found each other?”
“Nope.” Ace rubs the back of her neck. “Race you there?”
He wants to press more but he knows he shouldn’t. He’s got his mysteries, she’s got hers. “Sure, kid.”
She takes off running, and Markham has no choice but to follow her through the city. She runs faster than him, he shot his lungs out on cigarettes, but he keeps up the best he can, not too many yards behind her until she stops short.
“What’s…” Markham looks across the empty sidewalk to the woman standing alone, looking out on the water. She’s wearing kitten heels, jeans, and a floral shirt.
Ace takes a deep breath. “I talk. You don’t say shit. Not even if she asks you.”
“Fine, fine,” Markham mutters back, his eyes locked on the woman.
Ace walks up, her steps silent on the cobblestone. “Jude. You called?”
The woman turns, and her face shifts from stern to soft in a matter of seconds. “Ace. Thanks for agreeing to meet.”
Ace stops a few feet away from Jude, her hands in her pockets. “What do you want?”
There’s a second of silence, a heaviness hanging in the air before Jude rushes forward and hugs Ace tightly. “It’s good to see you.”
Markham watches Ace stiffen, hands staying in her pockets. She doesn’t let anyone other than him touch her, so whatever this is…their history is deeper than he thought.
Finally, Jude steps back, looking over at Markham. “Is he…”
“Yeah, the con artist. Markham.”
“Do you trust him?”
Markham scoffs, about to interject, but Ace gives him a look.
“I trust him. With my life.” She pulls her gloves out of her waistband, sliding them on. “He’s good. It’s my ass on the line if he’s not, right?”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Jude crosses her arms, but her eyes remain calm. “Heard you’ve been busy. You and Markham.”
“We’ve been taking a few jobs.” Ace shrugs. “That’s why you’re here,I assume. You’ve got a job that you need my help with, and you couldn’t think of a con artist.”
Markham steps forward. “Hey, I’m good at what I do.”
Jude turns her gaze on him, searching his face. “I don’t doubt that.” Her eyes latch onto the red jacket, and she tilts her head. “Well, maybe a little.”
Markham smirks. “What, you want a test?”
“That’s not the fucking point,” Ace snarls. “Am I right? Is this about a job?”
Jude nods. “Yep. It’s a big one. Team of seven, 1.4 million dollars a person.”
Markham whistles. “Wow. That’s one hell of a takeaway.”
“Yeah, it is. But it’s also a hard job. It’s going to take the best.”
“What’s the target?” Ace and Markham ask at the same time, giving each other a look.
Jude raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t comment on it. “A diamond necklace. Guarded by the most complex security system in the world.”
“So you’re going to need someone who can get into the system, Markham works the people, I do the steal. Plus a few others.”
“I think she said team of seven, kiddo,” Markham says with a laugh.
Jude nods. “Right. So, are you in?”
“Fuck, I am!” Markham puts his hands on his hips. “Can’t say no to that much money.”
Ace, though, just stares at Jude, and Markham’s enthusiasm dies down a little bit. “You sure this is a good idea? I don’t work well with others.”
Markham shakes his head. “You and I have been doing just fine.”
“It’s not the same.” Ace taps her gloved fingers on her muscular upper arms, right over the scars. “You sure this is a good idea, Jude?”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” Jude purses her lips. “We could find someone else, yeah. But they wouldn’t be as good as you.”
Ace looks at Markham, then back at Jude, then at her gloves. “I’m in.”
Jude smiles and nods. “Good. Meet me at the Park Street T stop tomorrow at eight in the morning. Don’t be late.” She turns to walk away, but stops. “And Ace? I’m sorry.”
Markham and Ace walk Jude leave, and when she’s gone, Markham turns to Ace. “What’s she sorry about?”
Ace exhales, and it’s like all the stress melts out from her body and into the floor below. “It doesn’t matter. Happened a long time ago.”
Markham shrugs. “Over a million dollars, Ace.”
She laughs and looks down at the floor. “Yeah. That’ll finally get you out of debt.”
“And it’ll make you richer.” He reaches out, tapping her chin with his finger. “Hey. What about that drink?”
She grins. “Yeah. Let’s go home, Markham. I bet we won’t be back for a while.”
He’ll be debt free. He’ll have money to spare, can go back to Vegas and gamble himself into another hole. But now? He’s worried about the kid. More than he’d care to admit. “Sure, kid. Let’s go home.”
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